


Sweet Little Lies

by Dusty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Discipline, Light BDSM, M/M, Sex, Spanking, Sub Aziraphale, The return of the subby little fuck, This shouldn't really be taken all that seriously, Top Crowley (Good Omens), contains the spanking of a petulant angel, mentions of switching in terms of topping not birch twigs, mild age play, role play, strangely explicit services, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 18:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20296219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: Subby Aziraphale is caught in a lie, and then another lie, and then another lie. Crowley realises he’s going to have to be more creative in dealing with his pouty, petulant, angel. So he calls on Nanny Ashtoreth, who believes in firm and corporal discipline when it comes to 6000 year old recalcitrant cherubs. (AKA Crowley and Aziraphale are having a lot of fun playing this game).Disciplinarian for hire? From the novel: "She wore a knit tweed suit and discreet pearl earrings. Something about her might have said nanny, but it... also coughed discreetly and muttered that she could well be the sort of nanny who advertises unspecified but strangely explicit services in certain magazines."





	Sweet Little Lies

'Angel, if I catch you doing that again, I will do something very severe.'

Crowley was pointing his finger at his angel and trying not to think about how hot Aziraphale was when he was being _squirmy_. The angel had been placing rainbow stickers on Crowley's boots. He'd also recently filled them with glitter, and lied about it. And this was on top of putting _sugar_ in Crowley's double espresso and denying it. Something needed to be done, but every time Crowley got close to Aziraphale, he felt far too warm and fuzzy to be stern.

Aziraphale wiggled. ‘No you won’t.’ 

‘ _ Aziraphale _ ,’ he cooed, a deadly warning, a devilish idea slotting into place. ‘Do you not remember how many years I cared for a bratty human child? I looked a bit different at the time.’

The angel’s cheeky smile dropped off at the memory of Nanny Ashtoreth. The Scary Mary Poppins had always been patient with little Warlock, albeit with a demeanour that deterred the child from pushing his luck. But Aziraphale had no doubt that the very same Nanny might be _extremely_ strict with a mischievous bookseller who was definitely old enough to know better.

He scrutinised Crowley’s face. Did he mean it?

‘Yes,’ answered Crowley, reading the angel’s mind. He eyebrows were raised, expression serious. ‘I do mean it. And I’ll tell you this for nothing, Nanny Ashtoreth will not hesitate to spank you.’

Aziraphale pouted, resembling a chided kitten.

Crowley sighed. ‘A proper spanking, angel. Not a few pats on the bottom and a sweet little cuddle. A proper spanking that will make you cry yourself to sleep.’

Aziraphale pouted more.

‘So behave. Or she’ll be right over.’ 

Crowley gave a wiggle himself, before taking Aziraphale in his arms and kissing him feverishly. _Bastard pouty angel. _He pushed him over to the desk and they indulged in a magnificent quickie. 

Of course, there was no way in the nine circles of hell that Aziraphale wasn’t going to put the Nanny threat to the test. He thought about it. What’s the worst that could happen? She wouldn’t  _ beat  _ him, or Crowley would have specified. Just a spanking, an antiquated punishment for children. He could take that. And the idea of Nanny Ashtoreth administering it… well that made him feel quite giddy. And by giddy... he got himself off to the idea three times before doing anything about it.

So he keyed the Bentley. He keyed a love heart, but he keyed it. Then he got scared, took a photo on his phone of what he’d done, and miracled the damage away. Then he sent the photo to Crowley. And waited.

The demon flew into the bookshop, forcing the locked doors open and shouting for him. The two ended up in a rather comical chase until the angel was cornered near the agriculture books.

‘Is this real?!’ asked Crowley, putting his phone in the angel’s face to display the photo.

‘No,’ lied Aziraphale, with a theatrical sickly innocence. 

Crowley simmered. He put his phone in his pocket. ‘C’mere,’ he said darkly.

The angel’s eyes widened. ‘No,’ he said coyly, backing up into the books. ‘You’re going to hit me.’

‘I  _ should _ hit you!’ said Crowley with a snort.  _ As if he could _ . But he suddenly realised what this was. He had been going to confiscate the angel’s keys and phone, and give him a very demonic ticking off, and then fuck him, but now that he thought about it, he understood. He cooled right down, mind clear.

‘You need a  _ spanking _ , Aziraphale.’

The angel pouted sweetly and fiddled with his fingers, adding a little extra twinkle to his baby blue eyes. 

‘Right,’ said Crowley, satisfied. He stalked away, leaving Aziraphale feeling a little nervous. But almost immediately the angel could hear footsteps. High heels, to be exact. They were approaching steadily.

Nanny Ashtoreth appeared, trussed up in her tweed suit, pearl earrings, leather gloves, and brandishing her Mary Poppins umbrella. She made Crowley's sunglasses look all the more sinister. Curiously, she seemed much taller on this occasion, and Aziraphale, feeling much  _ smaller _ , gulped audibly. She was certainly the sexy and domineering woman he remembered wanting to keep away from while at the Dowlings, but there was none of the nurturing carer he remembered. Displeasure emanated from her. 

He squirmed. A lot.

‘Right, young man,’ she began, her soft Scottish accent a dark enchantment. 

Aziraphale felt his ears burn. No one had ever called him that before. He’d never been perceived as a  _ young man _ , except for the broad spectrum of infantilising pet names Crowley frequently used for him that he secretly and wholeheartedly adored. His mind went to street urchins getting clipped round the ear, or worse. And Dickens novels. He backed away.

‘I hear you’ve been a very naughty, disrespectful, and troublesome little boy.’

Aziraphale blushed. He forgot how to breathe. He  _ definitely _ wasn’t aroused, which is why he held his hands in front of himself. He shifted from foot to foot, realising there was no way this Nanny would back down, and he’d set something in motion that he wasn’t going to like. Or was he?  _ Oh wow _ was he confused. 

‘Crowley…’ came his hoarse whimper.

‘Mister Crowley is away on business and he asked me to look after you. I believe you were warned. Multiple times. Yes?’

Aziraphale nodded pitifully. 

‘Well then,’ she said crossly, putting her umbrella down and tugging off her leather gloves. ‘You are to be punished.’

She sat down on the chaise lounge and smoothed out her tweed skirt.

‘I’m very sorry,’ blurted out a jittery Aziraphale, hoping to mitigate things. 

He was rewarded with a stony stare, terrifyingly enhanced by the dark glasses. ‘You will be, you wicked boy. Come here.’ She crooked her finger.

The angel meekly obeyed, feeling himself wobble inside. He all of a sudden remembered what Crowley said about crying himself to sleep, and just as he got close enough for Nanny to reach him, he tried to dash away.

But Nanny Ashtoreth was more than a match for him. She caught him around his waist and lifted him over her knee as if he weighed nothing. He was splayed over her lap, pinned in place with one strong, resolute hand. He gave a futile wriggle as he felt his trousers and underwear being loosened and yanked down. 

‘Stay still,’ she commanded. A smack landed on his tender flesh. 

The angel gasped. This was going to be bad if they were all going to be like that. He screwed his face up and braced himself. 

She really let him have it, rapidly spanking his bare bottom so sharply that her hand may as well have been a wooden paddle. 

Aziraphale _screamed_.

‘You have been disobedient (smack), scheming (smack), slovenly (smack), disrespectful to Mister Crowley (smack), foolish (smack) and wicked (smack),’ scolded Nanny Ashtoreth. ‘And I know you’ve been telling lies.’ 

Somewhere inside Nanny, Crowley smirked fondly. _About time_, he thought. _Subby little fuck_. The angel cried, and kicked, and twisted on his Nanny’s lap, but she did not relent.  Instead, a good, solid punishment was delivered to a thoroughly deserving little brat.

There was no kindly bookseller to be found that evening. Instead, a red-faced, crying, cupid lookalike who couldn’t stop rubbing his bottom was carried to bed by a very severe looking woman in dark glasses. He was kissed on the forehead as he was tucked in. He grizzled as the door to his bedroom was closed. Outside, Nanny Ashtoreth listened to the soft sobbing of her naughty boy, until the upstairs of the bookshop became very quiet, and the little sulky murmurs were replaced by light snores.

At some point, Mister Crowley returned, and checked on his little angel. He slipped under the covers, and allowed the warm lump under the duvet to snuggle up to him. 

‘Well well,’ he murmured. ‘Nanny told me what happened. I hope you’ve learned your lesson, angel.’

Aziraphale responded by pressing himself, and his erection, against Crowley’s leg. ‘Yes, Mister Crowley,’ he answered. ‘I won’t ever be naughty again.’

‘Hmmm,’ said Crowley, rather delighted. They kissed and writhed together lazily for a long time until something caught like a flame between them, and everything became soft sighs and breathy moans. Finally, Crowley rolled on top and pushed Aziraphale’s legs up. He leaned down and kissed him tenderly, and the angel rocked back and forth encouragingly. A demonic miracle ensured the angel was ready, and Crowley aligned himself and slowly, gently, sank in. They swore and intoned their pleasure as their bodies fully joined. 

They kissed and kissed and kissed, and Crowley began a punishing, or perhaps rewarding, rhythm. Their sleepy humping made for a pretty quick fuck, both of them reaching in the dark, so very close to one another, for a sweet release, which came within a few mad, passionate minutes, and at the same time. 

Crowley rolled off and collapsed happily, as Aziraphale took care of freshening them up. They squinted at each other in the dark, fingers touching fingers, while recovering. 

‘Well that’s added another dimension to things, hasn’t it,’ said Crowley, trying to see straight.

‘Uh huh,’ answered his royally rogered angel. 

‘Angel, exactly how often is Nanny Ashtoreth going to have to visit, do you think?’

Aziraphale sighed, feeling dreamily delicious. ‘Oh I think every other weekend should do it,’ he said pleasantly. 

Crowley exhaled dramatically. ‘Subby little fuck,’ he murmured. 

'Oh don't complain, my dear,' said Aziraphale. 'It's your turn tomorrow.'

Crowley grinned in the dark. They finally fell asleep, side by side, heads inclined toward one another, like two little angels. 


End file.
